


Drink to Forget

by TerrifiedAristocrat



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 01:44:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerrifiedAristocrat/pseuds/TerrifiedAristocrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carlos has a bad day. Cecil assists in practicing the town motto. Er. One of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drink to Forget

While the citizens of Night Vale were a hardy lot (much hardier than those pathetic denizens of Desert Bluffs) sometimes something just happens and a citizen will break down. Sometimes loudly. Sometimes publicly.

Carlos wasn’t loud or public- he was quiet and shaking, leaning on Cecil’s car in the radio station parking lot. Cecil almost grinned, almost let out a (much deserved) litany of praises but Carlos was pale, Carlos’ eyes flickered around nervously, Carlos as scared. The air around him held the metallic scent of fear and any praises were caught in Cecil’s throat.

“Carlos!” he rushed over to his scientist, taking his face into his dark, spindly hand s carefully. “What happened?”

“Portal. Cold. Eyes… oh God so many eyes…” Carlos whispered hoarsely, shuddering. His eyes were bloodshot, his face puffy. Cecil pursed his lips, ignoring the flickers of rage that danced behind his eyes.

“Where is it?” Cecil asked softly.

“Basement,” Carlos replied. Cecil nodded.

“Stay here Carlos,” he ordered the man seriously, holding up a hand.

“Cecil I-“

“Sh,” Cecil shook his head, diving into his car and pulling out a bottle. They were standard issue- all citizens were required to keep at least one bottle of Lethe in their cars and two in their homes, because sometimes things happen, and the only way to keep order in Night Vale is to drink to forget.

Carlos was still there when Cecil returned. Cecil opened the top with a satisfying crack, letting a powder-blue vapor blow off before offering it to Carlos.

“What is it-“

“Sh. Drink,” Cecil shook his head, offering the bottle. Carlos took it, his hands shaking. A little of the blue substance dribbled down the bottle an ran across Carlos’ knuckles. Cecil took Carlos’ ahnds in his own and maneuvered the bottle towards Carlos’ (perfect)lips. Carlos took a tentative sip, and then another, and soon he was drinking greedily like a man trapped in the desert. (Although technically, Carlos was. Cecil liked to think of it as less of trapped and more of enthusiastically welcomed and suggested to never, ever leave)

Cecil watched Carlos quietly, fondly, pretending not to think lewd thoughts as Carlos’ throat worked and bobbed.

Carlos swayed, pulled the bottle from his lips and licked them slowly.

“Cecil,” he mumbled “that’s not alcohol,”

“Of course not,” Cecil replied easily. “Let’s get you home,”

“Yours,” Carlos whispered fiercely.

“Yes. Mine,” Cecil nodded, hiding his inner glee behind his smooth voice. “You’ll be safe,”

Carlos needed help getting into Cecil’s car- he insisted that he didn’t, but he did. It was cute though, and Carlos had a bit of a propensity to cling to Cecil. Even while he was driving, Carlos kept a hand curled around Cecil’s arm while the rest of him leaned towards Cecil in the seat. It was sweet really. Carlos trusted him!

Cecil helped Carlos into his apartment gently, letting the man lean on him and oh gosh he felt so warm and heavy and real and alive and Cecil loved all of it. Cecil loved how he grumbled in Spanish, how he clung to Cecil with more than a hint of desperation, how his pupils were wide and dark and he looked just a little lost as Cecil guided him into his bed room and had him sit on the bed. Carlos started taking off his shoes, his fingers stumbling over the laces and Cecil watched him, already thinking about how to dispose of whatever vile beast had done this to his perfect scientist .Carlos fell back on Cecil’s bed and inhaled slowly, letting out a light groan. Cecil sat by him and gently stroked his hair, admiring how Carlos sprawled on his bed, defenseless and trusting.

“Cecil my head feels odd,” he mumbled.

“That’s normal Carlos,” Cecil assured him, twirling a gorgeous lock in his fingers.

“Hnnn…” Carlos groaned. “Stay?” Cecil’s chest swelled- Carlos wanted him to stay! But then he remembered what had put Carlos into his state and shook his head.

“Carlos, perfect Carlos,” he murmured, stroking his hair again gently. “You need to sleep,”

“Cecil-“

“Shh,” Cecil murmured softly, gently brushing the pads of his thumbs across Carlos’ eyelids, and then along his cheekbones and across his chin. A little stubble was poking through and felt wonderfully rough.

“Cecil I can’t-“

“Yes you can Carlos. Just close your eyes … and relax,” Cecil cooed. He really didn’t like using his voice’s (mild) hypnotic qualities on Carlos but the scientist needed it and under the influence of Lethe it was all too easy to give his delicate mind a little nudge. Carlos struggled of course, because he was a stubborn scientist and it was unbearably cute. But, Carlos’s lids eventually fluttered closed and he relaxed fully and Cecil slipped out of the room quietly, grabbing a blessed scimitar oh his way out.

The thing was still in Carlos’ basement. Luckily in his terror Carlos hadn’t locked anything. In the end, Cecil assured that none of the creature’s many-eyed brethren bothered his perfect Carlos ever again. It was a little messy though, and that fouled Cecil’s mood just a bit. He’d have to burn his favorite furry pants, since terror-horror blood was impossible to get out of fur. But once all that was taken care of Cecil returned home and slid into bed with his Carlos. The scientist shifted, grumbled and rolled onto his side. Cecil wrapped his arms around Carlos’ waist gently, contemplating marking the scientist as to prevent further incidents. Maybe on the shoulder, or the hand… or maybe something a little more intimate, like the neck. Or inner thigh… Cecil pressed his face into Carlos’ hair, inhaling slowly. One thing at a time.

///-

Carlos woke up groggy and warm, with an all-too familiar throb in his head and taste in his mouth. He usually didn’t drink enough to get a hangover anymore but… well, this was Night Vale.

He opened his eyes and saw purple, realizing with a start he wasn’t in his own bed.

Carlos next looked down and saw that he was still dressed, although a familiar pair of hands were gently clasped at his waist. Carlos tried to remember what had happened yesterday… but couldn’t. He vaguely remembered doing science, and drinking something that tasted like bubble gum and made his mouth numb… he remembered Cecil running his hands through his hair…

“Cecil,” he groaned.

“Carlos!” Cecil purred into his ear instantly.

“What happened?” he asked groggily. Cecil hesitated.

“Carlos, it’s early-“

“I can’t remember anything,” Carlos remarked slowly.

“Sometimes that’s for the best, “Cecil replied softly. He didn’t move his hands, but they twitched in a way that suggested he wanted to run them along Carlos’ stomach or something. That thought made Carlos shiver.

“Cecil I have to remember. “Carlos insisted, rolling over to face the man. Cecil withdrew his hands and looked at him with wide, worried violet eyes.

“Carlos,” Cecil murmured softly, biting his lip. “Sometimes things happen that hurt and scar us, things we’d be better off forgetting-“

“And did that happen to me? Did you make me forget?” Carlos asked slowly, unable to keep an accusatory tone out of his voice.

“I had to Carlos. You were a mess,” Cecil replied, sounding serious and worried. “You couldn’t even hold the bottle straight,”

“Why?” Carlos asked.

“That defeats the purpose of Lethe dear Carlos,” Cecil chided lightly.

“…Lethe…?” Carlos was confused.

“That’s the name of the liquid you drink to forget,” Cecil explained.

“Oh.” Carlos remarked. “I don’t… like it,”

“you needed it.” Cecil insisted. “You were… hurt. I can’t have that,” Carlos felt a weird surge of affection at those words, odd as they were. So , he let the subject drop.

“What time is it?” he asked, chuckling to himself when he remembered how silly the question was.

“Time to get up. Coffee?” Cecil offered.

“Yes please,” Carlos groaned.

**Author's Note:**

> MY WORKS KEEP ENDING IN FREAKING CAFFEINATED BEVERAGES BEING CONSUMED HELP.


End file.
